Identity Crises
by voodoochild2594
Summary: When Peter's identity is put on the line, what kind of hell is he willing to go through to keep it a secret? How many people will he have to hurt in order to save others? And how much of this torture will he be able to handle before he cracks? A dark story with a mesh of themes from all 'worlds' with my owns twists thrown on them. [This is a re-make of my first fanfic story]


**Prologue:**

White light of the moon pierced the sky, winding around the structured and tall bodies of many buildings and cascading dark and wicked shadows upon the city's landscape. In particular interest was a slim silhouette which danced across the walls of a dimly lit room. To further accompany the already chilling scene, the shrill laughter of a mad man cut through the stale air, the shadow moving accordingly; awkward and bent as the laughter's pitch dipped into hysterics.

"The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout…" The melody was sung in a tone with insanity to rival the laughter which flowed like fog on a cold night; thick and dark as it drifts lazily out into the open.

"Down came the rain." Barra-toned the song as the shadow darted across the wall, head thrown back in a wild gesture. The sound of glass upon glass, and glass upon floor was flanked by the procession of scuttling feet and colorful words as a hand was swept across a wooden desk, the rest of the items sent tumbling to the ground.

"And washed the spider out." The words, vile and cruel were spoken in a low whisper as an item was placed on the smooth surface. A flurry of shadowed movement flew across the desk as hands were run delicately and in awe, about the object.

* * *

**Itsy Bitsy Spider:**

Fingers fumbled over an angry alarm clock that's screams pierced the morning's crisp air like a knife through butter. An in-coherent mumble slowly grew into a low and agitated groan as the fingers finally found their target and the screaming ceased. A yawn could he heard next, accompanied by shifting as a scruffy looking teen with dark hair rose from the depths of sleep. Using a hand to push his mangled mop of brown out of his face, the sleep deprived teen stared at the alarm clock. Obvious annoyance quickly morphed into surprise and suddenly the once half asleep teen was wide awake and standing at attention.

The teen, otherwise known as Peter Parker, darted out of the room in a hurry and halfway down the stairs when realization seemed to catch up to him.

"Peter dear, are you awake? Your breakfast will get cold." The soothing tone of his aunt could be heard from the kitchen, along with clatter of dishes clanking together.

"Uhh…yeah!" Peter called out, glancing down at his torn and unmistakable costume he had forgotten he fell asleep in. Last night had been a wild one for the city's notorious red and blue vigilante. It seemed to be that way more often now days; with Peter…I mean Spider-man web-slinging about the city and kicking baddie ass all night, only to come home to his Aunt's quaint little house as Peter Parker, where he'd catch what little sleep he could and wake for school the next day. If only he could trap sleep in a web, as easily as he could the villains that stalk the night…ahahah…ahem. Excuse me, I'm getting far too in character here with my awful try at a cheesy pun; I should leave Peter to those. Anyhow, back to the real focus of the story; our infamous superhero; Spider-man.

Peter gave a string of nervous laughter, mentally kicking himself in the ass as he slipped behind the wall and out of sight from his aunt. "Be right down Aunt May!"

Unknown to the young vigilante however, the sly woman had already caught a glance of his red and blues. Moments later, and Peter was practically flying down the stairs (now properly dressed), a wide smile on his face as the scent of fresh pancakes, eggs and bacon hit his nose. However, that's about the same time his watch beeped, letting him know he had better get moving if he didn't wish to be late...again.

"Smells great, but…" He started out with obvious dismay as his eyes darted toward the door.

"At least have a piece of toast on the way." The woman responded coolly, holding out a small plate with an already buttered and toasted piece of bread. Peter was only momentarily taken aback at how she seemed to know just what he was going to say, but that was Aunt May for you; sweet and loving but also seemingly all-knowing, like some sort of teen-guru.

"Thanks Aunt May!" He gave her a sideways smile as he gratefully took the toast, not bothering with the plate. He wasted no time in heading out the front door and scooping up his backpack on the way out. However, moments later when he should have been making his way toward the approaching bus, he came back through the door and snatched a pancake. He had practically inhaled the toast in his hurry, and couldn't help but turn back around to snag a pancake while he was at it. Damn Aunt May and her homemade blueberry pancakes!

Though, his little stop of his had cost him precious time that he should have spent catching the bus. The yellow hunk of an automobile rolled on past Peter, laughter following in its wake, as well as paper and various items being thrown at the teen trying to catch up with it. "No! No! No!" Peter ranted in a frustrated manor, backpack slipping off his shoulder and half eater pancake in his hand as he half-assed his attempt at catching the bus. I mean, who doesn't want to ride in a hulking metal death trap full of screaming teens who hate your guts when you could we-sling to school?

He gave a heavy sigh and slouched in false dissapointment as he watched the bus until it had completely disappeared out of sight. Though, when it was gone, his demeanor seemed to do a 180 and his once pouty expression became sly. He gave a slight chuckle as he popped the rest of the pancake into his mouth, gave a quick glace back toward the house and darted off toward a nearby alley. Minutes later and with a triumphant war cry, the teen who was once again clad in red and blue, came swinging out of the alley and off toward school and unknowingly, Norman's greatest plot against him yet.


End file.
